It's Hard to Find a Good Tequila in New York
by Sare K
Summary: When Agent Sands returned to New York he expected to get some backlash for what happened in Mexico. What he didn't expect was having to go after American drug lords, jewel thieves, international terrorists, and deal with a new partner who isn't exactly wh
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Sands or anything that was in "Once Upon A Time in Mexico". Now in my circle of friends, I still don't own him, but that doesn't mean I can't borrow him for some fun..  
  
The plane left the airport rather quickly. That pleased him. The sooner he could get out of that godforsaken place the better. Sheldon Jeffery Sands didn't like to sit still for very long. He wasn't allowed to keep his gun. Airport security had been so tight lately, so he had to check all of them. *Besides,* he thought, *the less questions asked the better.* He hadn't had the best week of his life. That damned cartel had taken his eyes, the bastards. Now he couldn't see who he was shooting....or who he was fucking.   
  
To the outsider it looked like Sands was asleep. But no, the man was contemplating what would become of him once he got to New York. He'd have to explain his mistake in trusting the girl. *How the hell could I know that she was Barillo's daughter?!* he thought angrily. *I mean she's the one who came on to me, the little minx...* At least she was dead now. The rest of his trip was like that; him talking to himself and answering himself. He stopped only to ask the stewardess for a tequila and lime, and to meet him in the lavatory when she'd finished her rounds.....She'd complied with both.  
  
*****  
  
Several hours later the plane landed at LaGuardia Airport. As Sands got off he ignored the offers to help with his luggage and exited the plane. As he made his way to the baggage claim (with difficulty considering his eyes were gone) he heard a noise.  
  
"What the fuck?!" Sands jerked his head in the direction of the voice. It was familiar, but distant to him. He picked up his bags and heard the voice again. "Sands? Sands, is that you?" This time he turned around, finally recognizing the voice. With his voice full of sarcasm he addressed the person in front of him.  
  
"So you're my welcoming party," he said icily. "I'd have thought you'd have better things to do with that pretty little head of yours Miss Doyle." The young woman smiled. She picked up one of Sands's suitcases. "Glad to see me?" she asked. She noticed the man's look darken at what she'd said. Then it hit her.  
  
"Oh my God," she said. "It's true then? They really...you know?" He nodded. She let out a long breath. "Shit," she said. "Well come on then, or else I'm gonna have to kill the meter maid if she tickets me." Sands smiled in recollection at who he was dealing with. He knew where he was headed, he'd been to this airport a dozen times. From her footsteps ahead he could almost see her in his mind's eye: she wasn't tall, no, not too skinny either....not like some anorexic supermodel.....she had that really hard to tan Irish skin to go with her name...those really really purply-blue eyes....and her hair. Last time he'd seen her her hair had been long and choppy, with blue, red, and purple highlights mixed with the dark, dark red. It was so dark that it was almost black.  
  
"Well, here we are," she said. "Oh, and Sands? I'm doing the driving, so keep away from the driver's side." He grinned back at her. "Sure thing Ciara....By the way, sugarbutt, what are you doing here?" Ciara walked toward the exit. "I got a call this morning from the men upstairs saying they needed someone to pick up an injured agent. They told me it was some dumb fuck who'd pissed off some Mexican drug lords." Catching his less than amused expression she continued, "But I didn't think it was you." She continued on walking fast but struggling with Sands's luggage.  
  
"Can we get out of here? It's fucking cold," she said. Sands nodded and they exited the airport and walked into the garage. The girl was right, it was fucking cold. He tried to walk to the car, but ended up walking into her. Ciara was wearing a black leather jacket that came down to her hips, which in turn were covered with a pair of black corduroy cargos and combat boots, topped off with a black scoop-necked shirt with crocheted bell sleeves. Of course when Sands bumped into her, he saw none of this, but he sure felt a lot.  
  
"Hey, watch it!" Ciara said. "Remember what I told you Sands: unlike the girls you're used to, I don't mix work with pleasure." She turned to go to the driver's side when Sands stopped her. He moved close to her ear.  
  
"And you remember what I told you," he said, his lips brushing against her several hooped earrings, "I don't take no for an answer." She shivered, but he wasn't sure if it was because it was at least twenty below outside. She got in the driver's seat and as soon as Sands was in the car, she sped away. 


	2. Riding in Cars with Sands

Disclaimer: walks in bruised and bloody Damnit! Ok, I'll talk, I'll talk...I don't own Johnny Depp, or Once Upon a Time in Mexico. I do own everything else in this story. You happy? Now get me a fucking ice pack!!!  
  
A/N: Sorry for the wait. And maybe if SOMEBODY would be a little patient I'd let her have a character all her own....  
  
Ciara tucked her hair behind her ear nervously as she drove across the bridge to Manhattan. Home sweet home she thought bitterly as she sped onward. The two sat in silence, Ciara looking at the road, Sands looking at nothing at all. He sure was thinking a lot. She seems quiet, he thought. She's usually a real chatterbox. Ah, sooner or later I'll make her scream...and she'll like it too. They all do... He was interrupted by Ciara.  
  
"Sands, I really don't give a fuck if you can't see," she said, "but I can see those stupid cogs turning in your head." She sounded a little bit peeved. "Don't even think about it Sheldon, because I'm not like the others. You know that." He nodded dejectedly. He really was wondering what she looked like now. Two years really can do that to people.   
  
"Ok," he said, "let's have a compromise then, alright little miss motormouth? If I stop looking like I'm gonna jump you, then at least tell me what you look like so I'll know if I should even bother or not." Ciara thought. Well at least it'll get him off my ass She nodded, even though he couldn't see.  
  
"I look just about the same as I did before, I guess," she said. "I mean my hair's shorter, but it's the same colors. Still pale as an albino." Sands nodded. "Good enough for me," he said. "I think I felt the rest. You've gotten skinnier, Doyle."She turned red for a second, glad that he couldn't see her blushing. "Yeah, well you're not looking too bad yourself Sands. For a cock-weasel I mean." Sand smiled. She still had guts, she did. A lot of the other agents her age had either been putty in his hands or just plain scared of him. Not her, though. That girl had guts.   
  
Ciara had joined the CIA at the age of 21, and after a couple of years had earned a reputation. Now, at 25, she was one of the more respected agents in her field. Or at least she had been. Now she sat drumming her green fingernails against the dashboard while they sat at a particularly long and annoying stoplight. Though she did a very good job at hiding it she actually held Sands in rather high regard as an agent. Sure he broke every law possible and was crazy as hell, but he got the job done and was good at it. And that's what matters, she thought.  
  
A while later they pulled up in front of the CIA building in Manhattan. Ciara exited her car and said, "Get out" before walking toward the door. Sands made his way (after bumping into a parking meter and walking over some pigeons) to the door. He turned his head back as if looking at the city before him.  
  
"Home fucking home." 


	3. Save the damsel and keep her morals inta...

A/N: Sorry for the long wait folks, but I've had a busy time of it. No excuse I know, right Leanan?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, it belongs to Robert Rodriguez.

* * *

Sands felt his way through the hallways of the CIA building, occasionally bumping into people. Ciara rolled her eyes as the terrified younger agents purposefully avoided the notorious Sheldon Jeffery Sands. Inwardly, however, she was laughing her fucking head off. The funny thing was that these poor kids had every right to be afraid of Sands. The last time a younger agent had bumped into Sands was during a routine fire drill...that guy's balls were never quite the same after that...When the pair reached the elevator Ciara turned to see Sands dangerously close to her. Rolling her eyes at the blind dufus she pushed him back a couple of steps. Immediately he drew his gun a pointed, as luck would have it, right between her eyes. Once again putting his face close to hers he whispered in her ear.

"The last girl who did that ended up with her back against the wall of an elevator with only one thing holding her up."

Slowly Ciara backed up into the elevator and closed the doors. Weird, Sands thought. Doyle's not the type to give in that easily. There had to be something up. Ultimately the winner of the boxing match between Sands' brain and his groin was, of course, his groin. As he started to move Ciara back to the elevator wall a strange thing happened. There was a click and, instead of Sands poking her, she was poking him.

"I wouldn't move a step further if I were you," the younger agent said. "You've lost a lot Sands. I doubt you want to lose anything else."

Immediately he backed off, smiling mischievously. When the elevator reached its final destination the two got out into a huge room: CIA Headquarters. The room looked like it had many partitions placed in it to create offices. In between the offices were small hallways, all connected to one long hallway that went across the entire building. Ciara began to walk down the long hallway followed closely by Sands. As they passed she could see faces poking out of the doors and peering through the windows. Ciara rolled her eyes. What did they think this was? A fucking bridge game? This was the fucking CIA! And yet here these morons were, some of them the most highly revered men and women in the agency, and they were staring like simpering idiots! And what a sight this must have made: the former most dangerous agent being led like a child down that gauntlet by a disgrace. But Sands didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know that the only reason Ciara had been chosen was because they couldn't find anyone brave enough to pick him up from the airport. They couldn't find anyone he knew but her. At the end of the hall was a door. When they reached it Ciara turned the handle which caused a panel in the frame to appear. Ciara pressed the keys in a patter that unlocked the door and slowly it swung inward. Grabbing Sands' wrist, Ciara entered the room.

"Ah, Agent Sands, Agent Doyle. So good to see you."

The oiliness of that voice made Ciara cringe, but Sands stepped forward with a look of recognition on his face.

"Forrester?" he said. "How the fuck did you get put in charge?"

The other man smiled, though Sands couldn't see him. Ciara could and shivered. There weren't many things that freaked out Ciara Doyle, but Tom Forrester was one of them. Even looking at his cold blue eyes she thought this man makes Sands look like an overly horny puppy on the evil scale.

"Sit," he said. They did. "Glad to see you made it out of Mexico," Forrester said. "When Langley received your call they were surprised. First because they thought you'd died in the coup. Second because you'd never called in before. Ever."

Sands sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"Well Forrester I didn't think I could make it back without money."

Forrester nodded.

"That's why we brought you back," he said, walking over to Ciara and toying with a piece of her hair. "That's why we sent Miss Doyle over here. We know how you two are close."

Ciara started to turn bright red with humiliation. She knocked Forrester's hand away.

"Do you need me for anything else?" she asked.

"Oh I think so," Sands replied.

Ciara kicked him under the table.

"Actually," Forrester said, "it seems that the director wants the two of you to work together."

Sands raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really?"

Forrester nodded.

"It seems that the daughter of an American senator has been kidnapped."

He clicked on a remote turning on a projector. On the screen was a pretty girl of about eighteen with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes.

"This is Mary Sutherland," Forrester said. "We believe that she's been kidnapped by a drug cartel that centers itself in Los Angeles. Her father is known for his participation in the war on drugs. Seems that this is a revenge hit."

"So you want the two of us to go to LA?" Ciara asked. Forrester nodded. "So I'm back on the job?"

"Well," Forrester said. "Against my better judgment, but at the request of my superiors, you're back."

"Thanks."

"You'll get your itinerary from Showalter."

"Okay."

* * *

Later as the two walked down the hall, Sands following the best he could, something Forrester had said flashed through his mind.

"Doyle? Why'd you get kicked out of the CIA?"

Ciara sighed.

"Fuck."

* * *

Yes folks, I'm back. Leanan, you happy now? Don't worry, you'll appear missie, probably as a femme fatale of some kind. 


End file.
